Moonlight
by Free-With-Wings
Summary: JeanSasha Week Day One: Firsts. A small one-shot of Jean and Sasha's first kiss.


**This week (April 7 - April 13) is JeanSasha week!**

**Day 1 - Firsts**

* * *

It'd been less than a week since the devastation of Trost, and all spirits were standing low. Not just for the townspeople who had to deal with the destruction, but the soldiers as well. Especially those of the 104th training squad—mourning the loss of their comrades.

They tried not to dwell on it too much, as moping around wouldn't help fix anything, but that didn't stop the sobs that could be heard at night in the barracks, or around a corner in the evening. Most people who had lost a close friend wanted to be left alone, or just with one or two friends. However, Sasha Braus tried not to think about it. The first night she had cried over the loss of her friend, Mina Carolina, but she fared better the next few nights when they burned the bodies.

There was one person, though, who couldn't seem to stop mourning: Jean Kirschtein. This had surprised Sasha, for she thought the young, arrogant soldier would be angrier than anything. Both Jean and Sasha had lost a mutual friend—Marco Bodt. Sasha had tried to talk to Jean about it once or twice since she knew what he was going through, but he refused to speak to her or anyone else for a couple of days.

Finally, Sasha decided it was time for them to have a chat. After dinner that night, she tugged on his sleeve, the boy looking up at her with a scowl. At first she thought he was going to wave her off and leave, but to her surprise he stood up and followed her out the door, into the evening air.

They walked for a while in silence. He didn't ask where they were going, and she didn't say why they were going anywhere. After a while, however, they reached her designated destination: a hill a ways behind the stables, where a single old tree stood atop a bed of grass and wild flowers. It was secluded, not only giving a lovely view of the town, but also the stars. The sky seemed to peek out over the wall, brushstrokes of navy and violet skies with glitter thrown onto the paint.

"Jean," Sasha began softly, motioning for him to sit with her against the tree. The copper blond nodded, sitting beside her stiffly. His face was masked, but Sasha's intuition told her that he was still very sad and upset. "I wanted to talk."

"About what?" Jean snorted, "Trost? Titans? Dead people? You know I'm not in the mood for that shit, Sash."

Even though his tone was harsh, the girl still felt a little jump in her chest when he called her by the nickname he had given her. It had been an attempt to forget the "potato girl" stipulation, but now he used both synonymously.

"I know, Jean. I just thought that we could talk about… stuff. Anything, really. It's quiet here, and nice. We don't have to talk about _that_. If you want, we can just sit and not say a word. I thought you'd like it here for the same reason I do: it's secluded."

Jean nodded, and he turned his gaze toward her. Even in the dark his golden eyes seemed to gleam like tiny suns. He wasn't staring, more like looking at her. Regardless, it made Sasha a little uncomfortable, so she turned her gaze to her lap as she absent-mindedly began to play with her copper-brown hair.

While she braided and un-braided strands of her hair, they sat there in silence. Every once in a while a couple of crickets would sing in the darkness, only to fade out and be replaced with silence once more. The moon was rising in the sky. It was full tonight, bright and silver like a coin in the sky. When it was a quarter of the way up in the sky, their silence was broken.

"Why do you care?" his voice was smooth yet soft, though not as quiet as a whisper.

"What do you mean?" Sasha turned to face Jean, dropping her hair and placing her hands in her lap.

"Why do you keep trying to talk to me about it? Why do you care?"

"Well, Marco was my friend too—"

He cut her off, "Don't give me that crap. You stopped mourning over Mina already, so you've probably stopped crying over Marco by now as well."

Taking a deep breath in, she exhaled shakily. _Why do you care, Sasha? Is there really a reason?_ Yes, there was a reason, _you know why, don't you?_

"I thought talking about it would help you."

"Bullshit again, Sash. You know better than that. I don't talk things like this out. Never have, never will," his eyes narrowed as he frowned once more, "So are you going to tell me or not?"

"I don't know what you mean, there isn't a different reason," _still avoiding reality, huh?_

With a huff, the boy rolled his eyes and slumped back against the tree. Now he was angry with her, great. _Congrats, Sasha, you messed up again. What a wimp._

"Look," she began softly, face and eyes down at her hands in her lap once more, "I've noticed how upset you still are. I don't like it when you're so sad. Seeing someone as strong as you so down is… unsettling."

She lifted her face, turning toward him once more, eyes curiously awaiting his response.

"I'm not strong, and you know that. No—don't you dare object—I'm not strong at all. Marco even told me so, and he was right."

"But he wouldn't want you to be sad!"

"He wouldn't want to be dead, either!" Jean's chest was rising and falling now, as he was seething with rage.

Sasha felt a pang of pain in her chest. That wasn't fair to say, and he knew it. For as soon as he registered what he'd said, "No, Sash, I'm sorry… that was out of line."

He lifted his hands to his face, covering his eyes, "I can't say anything right," he muttered, "Can't do anything right either."

"That's not true," the girl whispered, crawling closer to him and wrapping her arms around him, his head against her chest, "You're Jean Kirschtein, you're smart, strong, brave, and placed sixth in the 104th training squad. People look up to you, praise you. Some even harbor admiration for you…."

He pulled away from her, hands leaving his face. Jean looked a little surprised, but also satisfied with the way she'd praised him. It looked like he was about to say something.

Before words left his mouth, in that moment the moon broke through an open patch of branches in the tree. The light cast a glow on them, turning their skin a pearly-silver. It startled them both, but after a heartbeat they returned their strayed glances to one another. Jean's gold eyes glowed in the moonlight, making him look wearier and, to an extent, wiser. Sasha's copper eyes flashed with the bit of light, leaving their usual fiery undertones to flecks of washed-out red, the silver weaving through her hair as well.

Without realizing what he was doing, Jean's hand reached up and he combed his fingers through the hair in her ponytail. As his fingers left the hair in the ponytail, they found their way to her bangs, brushing them out of her eyes. The touch was soft, kind. Something she wasn't used to feeling from someone as coarse as him.

"Admiration, huh," his eyes wandered over her glowing skin, settling on her eyes. He sounded more wonderstruck than concerned—lacking his usual sarcasm and wit. She nodded a small, slow nod. Now his fingers trailed along her brow, down the curve by her eye, across her cheekbone and jaw, resting below her chin. "I didn't think that was possible."

"It is," the brunette murmured, eyes locked on his. Each cell of her skin seemed to scream with his touch, like they were on fire.

"Then there was one good thing to come of this week. I got to do this," Jean's other hand rested on the back of her neck as he tilted her chin up, placing his thin lips gently on hers. Sasha's eyelids fluttered shut. The kiss was sweet, calming, kind. Everything she knew he was, but not something he usually showed.

Their moment was fleeting, and although it felt like time stopped, soon their lips were parted, and warmth was replaced with cooler air. When he had kissed her, Sasha's heart had stopped. Now it was beating so hard she felt like it was going to give out. Her eyes opened to his, just as he was pulling back from her and began to stand up.

_No, don't go_, she wanted to say, _stay_. But her mouth wouldn't cooperate. By the time she realized what was happening, Jean was already walking down the hill. He turned for a moment, looking back at her, hair silver in the moonlight. "I guess it's true what they say, all dark clouds have a silver lining."

Then he was gone, leaving Sasha to sit there, two fingers gently on her tingling lips as the moonlight was once more blocked by the tree branches.


End file.
